


Mom of the Year

by mandaree1



Series: Teen!Delinquent AU [7]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper and Mabel are crafty even when their goal isn't illegal, Gen, Teen!Pines, Thompson refuses to live in his mother's basement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy ends up adopting the twins, metaphorically speaking, while Dipper ends up adopting the gnomes. Literally. A job hunt has never ended this strangely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mom of the Year

Mabel stumbles down the stairs, the picture of elegance in a big shirt and boxers. Dipper came up behind her, far more fancy in his sweatshirt and brown shorts. Of course, they were the clothes he went to bed with, but one gave him props for trying.

"Wait a second." He studied the big shirt she's wearing- completely black, with green coding across the front- dubiously. "That's _my_ shirt."

"Dipper, we're _twins_. We have no singular items." She gave a half-asleep shrug. "You want to borrow one of my sweaters?"

"Too hot."

"You're dead to me."

"I wouldn't mind one of your skirts, though. I rock pink polka dots."

"Only if you take back your sweater-related sins."

"You can't make me."

"Then no skirt for you."

"If you're gonna be like that, give me back my shirt."

"I'm not wearing a bra."

"Never mind."

She sounded smug. "Thought so."

Wendy is entirely too awake as they make their way into the dining room. Thompson, perched sheepishly at her table, waves. "Hey, guys."

Mabel sulks past him. "Coffee first, then friendship. Survival of the fittest."

Dipper, far more used to running on little sleep, took his place at the chair across from the awkward male. "Hey, man. What's up?"

"This idjit," Wendy calls from the kitchen; the smell of burning bacon accompanies her. She's not a good cook when she's stressed, Dipper's found. "Is here to beg the use of my couch."

Thompson leans back a bit to peer into the other room, frowning. "You're acting like this is the first time."

"It's the first time when I've already got two other freeloaders." She calls back. Mabel shuffles in, cradling the liquid of life.

"It's not alcohol, but it'll do."

"Mabel, you're a violent drunk. I don't want to be punched in the face this early."

"Says the drunk who cries like a baby over a hangnail."

"We swore never to speak of that."

Mabel flops next to Thompson. "Why not go home?"

Thompson's face gains a hard edge. "I'm not living in my mom's basement. I always swore I'd never be that guy."

"So you're the guy who crashes at his friend's place instead?" She says bluntly.

"Pretty much." Thompson shrugs.

"He gets passed back and forth between me 'n Tambry's." Wendy appears with a place of scrambled eggs, black bacon, and slightly undercooked toast. "Robbie get sick of you?"

"I... might have put a pink sock in their washer. On purpose. 'Cause he told me a man can't wear pink quite like a girl does."

"I take offense to that." Dipper says. "I rock pink polka dots."

"Exactly."

"He also rocks distastefully mocking sweaters." Mabel glares at him over the cup. "Sweaterist."

"Robbie needs the odd punch to the head to set him straight, but he's a good guy." Wendy agrees. "He's a tattoo artist now. Mabel, you oughta bug him for a job."

Her eyes lit up with a gasp. "I could put my illegal babies on _people_."

"Oh, god."

"We don't believe in god."

"I could certainly use a god right now."

Thompson raises his hand. "I believe in God."

"Pray to them for me, please?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

Wendy heaves a long sigh. "It's bad enough I have to build you two a room. Next I'll be making Thompson one."

Thompson gave her a hopeful look.

"Thompson, _no_."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a guest room." Dipper comments.

"Dipper. Not. Helping."

"Face it, Wendy." Mabel laughs. "You've adopted us."

"Exactly." Thompson says. "I'll help you build. Please?"

"Thompson, you suck at building." She bit her lip. "Ugh, fine. I totally did adopt you dorks, didn't I?"

"Yay!" Mabel pounded on the table. "Mama Wendy! Mama Wendy!"

Thompson joined the chant, while Dipper quietly took a sip of Mabel's coffee, despite not really enjoying the flavor.

"Kill me." Wendy says blandly, crossing her big arms. "Not you, Dipper, huh?"

"Considering how I used to have a crush on you- and still consider you really pretty- calling you 'mama' would just be weird." He coughs awkwardly into his fist. "That may get other people going, but it's not my cup of soda."

"It's nice to know I've got one person by my side."

"Oh, no." He answered airily. "You totally adopted us."

"That's it. You're all grounded."

Mabel snorts into her cup. "How quick do you think Robbie can hire me?"

"That depends." Thompson says. "Are you a good artist?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Alright then. As soon as he can squeeze you past the law, I guess. _If_ he's willing to hire you."

"Robbie likes me. He'll hire me."

Dipper cocks an eyebrow. "Should I be afraid you'll sweep him off his feet?"

Mabel wrinkles her nose in answer. "Tambry can keep him, for all I care."

He considers bringing up the fact that they're permanently bound via a magic love potion, then tosses the notion aside. "Whelp. I'm officially the only one without a job. Bad Dipper."

"Tambry's hiring." Wendy says, between bites of breakfast.

"What does she do, again?"

"She's a goth hairstylist."

"I can't even cut my _own_ hair."

"He's not kidding; I've seen him try it."

"Well, heck, man. I dunno. Join a cult, or something."

Dipper remembers the tear tracks on his sister's face the night before and takes a begrudging bite out of his breakfast. "I'll find something."

* * *

 

By "something", he didn't mean this.

The gnome, who is known as Carl, a distant cousin of Jeff's who takes over while he's busy, put his tiny hands on his tiny hips. "What? You gotta problem with that?"

Dipper scrubs at his face with his hands. "Man, no offense, but... you know what? Take offense. This _should_ be offensive. You kidnap girls, dude. I don't think I can work for gnomes who aren't decent, you know?"

"Oh, that." Carl waves it off. "We got a new queen now. Willingly, even. Someone who's gonna live a long, happy life with us. So no worries."

"Until she dies." Consider his arms crossed. "And then you'll kidnap someone else."

"Nope! Her majesty has decreed it un-gnome-like. Besides, now that we're living in peace with the Manotaurs, we've been learning how to properly woo the ladies. Apparently, kidnapping is unmanly. Who knew?"

He waggles his eyebrows. Dipper feels vaguely ill. "What would I even do? Make jam and squirrels appear out of thin air?"

"Of course not!" Carl lowers his voice. "Listen, kid. After the coming of The Great Evil Triangle Guy- who we haven't had a religious sector form in his image that we're still trying to squash, no siree- we gnomes realized something. Nobody really likes us."

"Really? Never would've figured that out."

"We have Manotaurs, sure, but we need somebody up and with it enough to work as our peacekeeper. Help us learn some things. Maybe decimate the odd species magically, but I swear that's a voluntary thing."

"I'm not gonna have to, like, live with you guys, am I?" He's going to do this. He's really going to do this. Something is legit wrong with him.

"Hmm? Nah. No humans are forced to live in our turf anymore. Her lovely majesty comes and goes as she pleases. Just wear this." Carl pulls out a leather necklace that would go about chest level that ends in a red elongated triangle shape. "It's not magically bound, I promise. Well, it _kinda_ is, in that magical creatures will recognize it, but you'll be able to take it off and junk."

"What... even _is_ that?" Dipper points at it, eyes half-lidded in a sort-of squint.

"It's an insignia! It could be a little of anything; a gnome hat, dyed Manotaur horn; flip it upside down, it could be a bloodstained tooth! But mostly just a hat."

"Uh-huh." Dipper finds himself slowly nodding. "This is it, then. This is my life now. I'm a gnome ambassador."

"Well, not so much _ambassador_ , as a mage. A mage who bonks us upside the head and tells us how to do certain things. A Mage Mom. That's it! You'll be our official Mage Mom."

He face-palms, and suddenly he feels for Wendy. He _hates_ feeling for people. "Just give me the stupid necklace." He groans.

Carl goes to hand it over. Dipper hesitates.

"Wait, I'm not selling my soul, am I?"

"Just take the amulet, kid." Carl cuts him off.

"Ugh, fine." Dipper grabs it and drapes it around his neck.

"There we go." Carl clasps his hands free of dust. "Man, Jeff's gonna have a cow. He's not the biggest fan of you."

Dipper gives absolutely zero anything about the opinion of Jeff. "Well, he shouldn't have tried to kidnap my sister, then."

* * *

 

Tambry and Robbie's stores were situated side by side to each other, with a door between them to connect the two. Dipper enters the hair salon, refusing to go inside Mabel's workplace directly, lest he be dragged into getting those sleeves he's been drooling over. He needs to save his money.

Tambry finishes a simple side-shave before coming to greet him. Her black shirt bares midriff, and there's a skull nose ring, but Dipper notices the neon rainbow bracelet on her left arm before anything else.

It makes sense, he supposes. The sign on her door proudly states that "Everyone Deserves To Be Hated Equally."

"You look like you crawled out of bed in that and didn't do much else." She nods to his wrinkled sweatshirt and snorts, complete with hiking boots.

Dipper examines herself, eyeing the Mage Mom insignia with mild distaste. "I did."

"Cool. Your sisters in the back; she's hoggin' my vending machines."

He salutes and tromps away.

Mabel, vibrating on her heels with sugar and excitement, tosses a candy bar his way. "I'm a tattoo artist! I gave a biker _death_ knuckles."

Dipper wearily holds up a hand. "I may, or may not, have joined a cult."

His sister stares at him. "Two questions. One; are you leader of said cult?"

"Nah."

"Whelp. That's one less meme I can use against you. Two; does said cult have anything to do with erasing minds?"

"Mabel. Do I look like the kind of guy to join the Society of the Blind Eye, or the equivalent thereof?"

"We don't look like half the people we are, Dip. Your point is invalid."

He holds the necklace up for examination. "I'm officially a gnome now. Literally. They granted me citizenship."

Mabel brings the hat to her nose. "I always knew you were gonna have issues finding a job in the normal world, but _Jesus Christ_ , Dipper."

"You don't believe in Jesus."

"I'm sure he was real. I'm sure he was a guy from another dimension. Spill the beans."

He does, starting with their new laws and ending with the apparent rise of a new gnome queen and his new job inbetween.

"Huh. Poor thing." She muses. They're sitting on the curb outside, sharing a soda. Tambry had shooed them out, after one last fist bump and hair tussle. "My first guess would be Pacifica, but she's less interested in gnomes than she is people."

"Pacifica is asexual, not aromantic, Mabel."

"And what I'm saying is that if she's not attracted to men or women specifically by looks, then she's gotta go for brains; of which the gnomes are lacking."

"Touche." Dipper accepts, digging around his pockets. "If anything, they're paying me with gold."

He flicks a single yellow coin her way. She holds it to the light, then chews on the edge. "Nice. We have our money. Now we just need a pawn."

"That's mean."

"That's life."

"Fair enough. I thought knight would be more appropriate."

"How about a knight with an axe? Mama Wendy'll be down."

"We can't manipulate Wendy. We love Wendy."

"No, but we can ask." Mabel gulps down the rest of the can and chucks it into the bin. "I say we butter her up."

* * *

 

Wendy lumbers in later that night, shoulders slightly slumped. Thompson works third shift, so Dipper types away at his laptop on the sofa, Mabel knitting by his side.

"Hey." Dipper waves distractedly. "You kill some trees?"

"I have officially helped destroy the ozone layer." She deadpans, shrugging her axe off and setting it down beside the door. "You guys eat yet?"

"Not hungry." Dipper says, a bit too quickly.

Wendy gives him a puzzled look and stumbles into the dining room that connects to the kitchen. Dipper and Mabel exchange a look, but don't try to stop her.

There's a moment of silence.

"Alright, which one of you dorks burnt my perfectly good wood counters?"

"He did it!"

"Really, Mabel? Finger pointing?"

"You're copying me! You're pointing at me, right now!"

"Yes, but I'm not screaming it to the Heavens-"

" _What_ Heavens?"

"Don't be like that. You believe in the afterlife."

"There aren't any pearly gates, is all I'm saying, kitchen destroyer."

"Mabel, you're being offensive."

"Good!"

The large woman leans against the doorway, finding the twins sufficiently cowering before her muscled-yet-squishy might. "Alright, from the top. Who did this?"

They both sheepishly raised their hands.

"Better question. Why?"

Dipper holds his hands up in a 'don't shoot' sort of way. "You've been working so hard, chopping wood for the house on the side, when you're not chopping down trees for other people."

"Not that we're complaining!" Mabel cried. "The tool room is a nice place to sleep. It's full of pointy things!"

"So we thought we'd make you dinner. But, uh..." He twiddles his thumbs. "We forgot we suck at cooking. We burned the ham, we burned your counter; sorry."

"We almost set the oven on fire." Mabel blurts out. Dipper sends her a dirty look. "What? She's gonna wanna know what something you bake in an oven is doing on the counter!" She shrugged self-consciously. "The poor thing was _this_ close to setting the house off. We singed the oven, singed the counter, and then singed the floor when we dropped it."

Wendy's face remained perfectly blank. "Okay, now that you've told me your planned story in a way so sincere I _almost_ believe it, tell me the real reason."

They both drooped, like ice before the sun. "You could tell?"

"You were too forthcoming. You're never that honest without some sarcasm."

"We'll have to work on that." Mabel hums. "The sarcasm, I mean."

"Of course."

"Not our honestly. We're always honest."

"Definitely."

Dipper sighs and closes his laptop. "In answer to your question; we don't have an answer. We just felt like cooking."

"You suck at cooking."

"So do you."

"I burn bacon. You set ovens on fire. Big difference."

"Jeez, Dip-n-Dots." Mabel rolls her eyes. "We can't even butter up a woman in peace."

"'Tis truly a shame, Lady Mabes. You'd think we were criminals, or something."

"Scoundrels."

"Runaways."

"Hey." Wendy crouches down to press a hand to each of their checks, face soft-ish. "You listen to mama Wendy now."

"Ha!" Mabel snorts.

"Yeah, you laugh. Never saying that again. You listening?" They both slowly nod. "It's okay to ask for things. I might say no, but you can ask. Seriously, you kids are getting to be worse than Stan ever was."

Mabel snorts again, this time to hold back tears. "Yeah?"

"Duh. We're friends, dude. Friends help friends."

"Okay." Dipper says. "We... kinda need to borrow your truck. And you."

"For?"

He drums his fingers on the closed computer. "We had to leave Waddles to come here. We don't want our folks to think we don't want him anymore, you know?"

"Waddles isn't pushing up daises?"

"Pigs can live as long as dogs, if they're well taken care of."

"He's alive, then." She affirms. "Okay."

"We have the money for gas." Mabel breaks in, voice oddly fragile. "I want my squishy little guy back."

Wendy stands, joints creaking in protest. "Can we wait 'till morning?"

They both perk up; ice met with the power of a sudden blizzard. "So soon?"

"Of course. I just need some sleep. Cutting trees ain't a business that's good on your back, you know?"

Mabel tosses the knitting into Dipper's lap and lunges for her belly. "Go mama Wendy!"

"You're welcome." She answered mildly. "Get in here, Dipper."

"Yeah? I'm all gross."

"You're not the little gentleman you're pretending to be. Get in here before this gets awkward."

Dipper chuckles and joined them. "I entered a cult today. And Mabel wrote 'death' on some biker guy's knuckles."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least, with you two. Just don't let them perform satanic rituals in the living room and we're okay. And no biker gang meetings in the kitchen."

**Author's Note:**

> Next story, Dipper and Mabel end up following in their grunkles footsteps in a spectacular way. More on that when it's posted.
> 
> Okay, now hear me out on this. Mullet!Dipper.
> 
> Long-haired Dipper who's too lazy to get his haircut along with the other things he doesn't do.
> 
> Long-haired Dipper with a ponytail.
> 
> I rest my case.
> 
> (Dipper and Mabel are atheists, thanks to a evil triangle demon, Thompson is laid-back baptist (?), and Wendy is agnostic with a thing for a Gods council, rather than one entity calling the shots- also thanks to a evil triangle demon.) I promise, I don't have anything against religion; Mandar is not one of those people who rain on other's beliefs.


End file.
